


let's do this one more time

by phae



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Morning After, minor Star Trek reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1219636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/pseuds/phae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil heads back to his apartment to relax and is surprised to find it already <i>ocupado</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's do this one more time

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Nicki Minaj's _Starships_.
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr, in case this seems familiar.

Phil collapsed onto the sofa with a relieved sigh, dropping his head back to rest against the top of the cushions while he waved the television remote aimlessly and hit the power buttons by rote. He rolled his head to the side so that he could see but didn’t bother to lift it from the comfortable perch.

 

The satellite programming came up, and Phil started flicking through the channels absentmindedly, more looking for background noise than anything to hold his interest. His day hadn’t been physically taxing by any means; he’d spent the majority of it holed up in his office. Filling out paperwork in triplicate was mind-numbing, though.

 

He paused at FX, recognizing the frozen tundra of Delta Vega from the Star Trek reboot film and let the remote fall into the gap between the arm of the couch and cushion as he settled back.

 

A few minutes into his well-deserved unwind, the faint squeak of a door hinge—bedroom door, Phil had adjusted all the door hinges in the apartment so that they all sounded off at slightly different registers: a low-tech security system—dragged Phil from relaxed to high alert in a single moment. Reaching behind him to pull out the handgun stashed under the cushions, he leveled the muzzle at the hall entryway.

 

Phil’s ears were primed to pick out any other suspect noises, the movie audio running in the background but easy enough to ignore with the spike of adrenalin coursing through his system and focusing his senses. A footfall landed on a loose floorboard under the beige carpeting as Scotty argued with Spock Prime about the improbability of transwarp beaming.

 

And then Barton stepped around the corner and into the living room, one hand raised behind his head to ruffle at his sleep-mussed hair. A pair of Phil’s Cap pajama bottoms rode low around Barton’s waist, exposing the sharp jut of his hipbones.

 

Phil experienced a surreal moment of utter confusion as Barton flopped onto the couch beside him, half in his lap, and plucked the gun from his hands, engaging the safety before dropping it back behind the cushions. Phil stared at the side of Barton’s head, but he seemed content to just sit back and watch the movie.

_“The notion of transwarp beaming is like trying to hit a bullet with a smaller bullet, whilst wearing a blindfold, riding a horse.”_

 

“I’ve done that,” Barton mumbled, wedging his leg down between Phil’s.

 

Phil blinked at the knee knocking against his. “Wha—has R&D been looking into teleportation? I thought that was off the table until we encountered an alien species or mutant willing to assist in the developmental stages?”

 

Barton’s laugh was like a happy bark. “What? No. The hitting a bullet with another bullet while riding a horse blindfolded. Well, except it was arrows. Circus crowds are kind of ridiculously hard to impress. Plus, transwarp beaming isn’t going to be a thing until 2258 according to the altered timeline.”

 

Phil was about to start a line of questioning to get at the bottom of exactly how nerdy Barton was beneath his too-cool-for-school exterior when his brain finally caught up with the entirety of the current situation, and he realized that Barton was in his apartment, had apparently been sleeping in his bed. In Phil’s pajama pants.

 

“Did you sleep all da—have you been here since I left this morning?” Phil asked. Because yes, Barton had been in his bed when he left early in the morning for a meeting at HQ with Fury, naked and snoring lightly, but that had been almost 12 hours ago. Phil'd assumed Barton would have erased any sign he’d been there at all by the time Phil got home, would walk past him in the corridors at SHIELD with barely a nod of greeting the next time they met. He hadn't expected Barton to fall into bed with him in the first place, much less to stick around, and so he'd spent his coffee breaks throughout the day convincing himself that once was enough to get Barton out of his system, as if there weren't a multitude of feelings tangled up with his avid appreciation of his asset's physical attributes.

 

Beside him, Barton tensed and slowly began to retract his limbs from where they were draped across Phil. “So, this is awkward,” Barton began with a self-deprecating laugh. “Clearly I read the situation wrong. Let’s just chalk it up to a post-mission drop, yeah? Forget the weird part where I stayed in your apartment all day and just remember the hot monkey sex fondly.”

 

Barton made to rise from the couch, and Phil quickly darted a hand forward to wrap around his bicep and pull him back down. He landed so that his bare back was pressed to Phil’s chest. Phil moved his hand over Barton’s shoulder to wrap his arm around Barton's torso and keep him still.

 

Unsure of what to say since most of what he wanted to say would probably come across as clingy and needy and reveal his hand a bit too much re: his burgeoning infatuation with his asset, Phil settled on the most innocuous thought in his head. “You look good in my pjs.”

 

Barton turned his head so that he could look at Phil, and a shy, genuine smile slowly transformed his face. “I bet they look way better on you.”

 

Fighting the blush threatening to spread over his cheeks (he was a secret agent, for crying out loud; he could handle flirting with a handsome guy without getting all hot and bothered about it) Phil dropped his head forward and pulled Barton’s earlobe into his mouth, his teeth scraping over the cartilage slowly. Phil felt the shiver race down Barton’s spine and let go of his lobe to mutter, “Pretty sure they’d look best on the floor.”

 

Barton twisted around so that they were chest-to-chest, a happy grin lighting his eyes even as he bit at his lip to try and reign it in. “Back to bed?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows for added affect. Phil shifted and his thigh pressed into Barton’s groin, most notably the growing bulge there, and Barton moaned. “Or we can just stay right here. Here’s good,” Barton babbled as he shifted his hips to gain friction. Running his hand up Barton’s back and into his hair to fist it, Phil yanked their mouths together and gave up on speaking for the rest of the night outside of muffled profanities and garbled pleas for more.


End file.
